


Back to Middle-eath Month 2011 fics

by Dwimordene



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Multi-Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwimordene/pseuds/Dwimordene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for B2MEM 2011, however many there end up being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melkor and the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_Prompt: Nan Elmoth - "It is not enough to conquer; one must also know how to seduce" - Voltaire_  
  
Response: "War and Eros are the two sources of illusion and falsehood among men. Their mixture represents the very greatest impurity" - Simone Weil.  
  


* * *

  
Then Eru withdrew and waited, withheld: the Flame Imperishable burned not in the Void, but within _One_. Bad lover, who must be won – desire distances, is war disguised.  
  
Forth went Melkor to do better by lonely majesty.    
  
"Love me," he told the mountain, and spirit of fire, neither waited nor withheld. With his own flame he fired it to love him as himself.  
  
It vomited, wept ash-tears and embers, trembled with his heat.   
  
'Tis the image of his beauty. He will enflame Eä with his love, yet vainly: echoes are not answers, but he'll not hear the wailings...  
  


* * *


	2. In that hour Finarfin forsook the march...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title was too long for the title-box: the full and correct version of the title is below.

_Prompt: LOSGAR - Defiance is defined as the willingness to contend or fight. Write a story or poem or create artwork where the characters defy authority in some way._

_Note: the title was too long for the title-box: the full and correct version of the title is below._   
  


* * *

**In that hour Finarfin forsook the march... but his sons were not with him**

For they approached Finarfin at Araman; Finrod knelt, saying: "We will continue. Pray, bless us, Father!"   
  
Then Finarfin tore his hair, for his horror would not lift his hand, but love would not withhold. Heart-rent he fell, weeping.   
  
His younger sons embraced him finally, and departed, but Finrod waited. Groaning, his father clutched him.   
  
"Why ask this of me?"   
  
"For love. And for good."   
  
"Vanities! You heard the Doomsayer!"  
  
Then Finrod was silent, 'til finally: "I heard an airy voice. But even Melkor was received back, so bless me, and _that_ defy. Then, when the others repent, we will return."   
  


* * *

  
**Author's Notes:** There's always something ironic about author's notes that are longer than the drabble they annotate, but...   
  
"In that hour Finarfin forsook the march... but his sons were not with him" - "Of the Flight of the Noldor," _Silmarillion_   
  
Context: "There they beheld suddenly a dark figure standing high upon a rock that looked down upon the shore. Some say that it was Mandos himself, and no lesser herald of Manwë. And they heard a loud voice, solemn and terrible, that bade them stand and give ear. Then all  halted and stood still, and […] the voice was heard speaking the curse and prophecy which is called the Prophecy of the North [...]"  
  
This drabble came from a very interesting conversation with a friend that went all fandomy about the tragedy of heeding strange voices that speak 'from heaven' in Hagigah, 15a: "After his apostasy, Aher asked R. Meir: What is the meaning of the verse: Gold and glass cannot  equal it; neither shall the exchange thereof be vessels of fine gold?37 He answered: These are the words of the Torah, which are hard to acquire like vessels of fine gold, but are easily destroyed38 like vessels of glass. Said [Aher] to him: R. Akiba, thy master, did not explain thus, but [as follows]: Just as vessels of gold and vessels of glass, though they be broken, have a remedy,39 even so a scholar, though he has sinned, has a remedy.40 [Thereupon, R. Meir] said to him: Then, thou, too, repent! He replied: I have already heard from behind the Veil:41 Return ye backsliding children — except Aher."


	3. Constancy

_Prompt: VINYAMAR: Some people have difficulty embracing changes and moving on. Write a story or poem or create artwork that shows the consequences of refusing to change._   
  


* * *

  
They were unlike the elements. Soft as beasts – softer, even, dying swiftly in his hands.  
  
So Melkor changed them. He sang their skins hard, thickened bones, polished eyes to night-shine sharpness. He sang them lion's claws and teeth.  
  
And he Tuned them to his own Song.   
  
Long, painstaking labor, but they were finally – _finally!_ – his own.   
  
But the first cut her brother's throat in hatred of him. He nearly lost the lot.  
  
Time bred their fierceness out somewhat, but not their fratricide – self-hatred remains. Something other sings still in them: forever inward-riven, between Elf and Orc, no peace but death...


	4. The Harrowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When three hundred years and more were gone since the Noldor came to Beleriand, in the days of the Long Peace, Finrod Felagund lord of Nargothrond journeyed east of Sirion and went hunting with Maglor and Maedhros, sons of Fëanor. But he wearied of the chase and passed on alone [...]" - "Of the Coming of Men into the West," _The Silmarillion_

_Prompt: Mithrim: "There would be no one to frighten you if you refused to be afraid." -Gandhi_  
  
Write a story or poem or create artwork where the character conquers his or her fears.  
  


* * *

  
Maglor never knew what set brother against cousin that eve. He'd returned to camp to find them nigh another Kin-slaying, 'til Finrod apologized, abandoning the hunt.   
  
Afterward, they'd spoken little until the Bragollach, and Finrod died in the raiding years for mortal debts.   
  
Things have worsened since – unbearably so: the Nirnaeth. Doriath. Sirion.   
  
"We persist," Maedhros ever says. "Oath-bound under curse, we cannot but."   
  
By night, however, conviction vanishes: "For nothing!" he cries upon waking. "Everything, for trickery, _ai_ , cruelty, Cousin – !"   
  
But nightmares pass. Strange fears fortunately pass: "To sword, brother." Maedhros rises to their bloody task. "We're still bound."   
  


* * *

  
**Author's note:** "When three hundred years and more were gone since the Noldor came to Beleriand, in the days of the Long Peace, Finrod Felagund lord of Nargothrond journeyed east of Sirion and went hunting with Maglor and Maedhros, sons of Fëanor. But he wearied of the chase and passed on alone [...]" - "Of the Coming of Men into the West," _The Silmarillion_  
  
Building on [In that hour Finarfin forsook the march... but his sons were not with him](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=5197).


	5. On the Way to Gondor, 2961

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See "Cirion and Eorl" in _Unfinished Tales_ for the description of Halifirien and the gravestone inscription.

_Prompt: Menegroth: isolation and its consequences._   
  


* * *

  
Upon Halifirien stands the marker-stone.   
  
Kneeling, Aragorn traces LNDL. A grave empty as that other, marked RTHORN.   
  
Yet empty graves grieve less than empty beds. His fathers had had children. Or a child.   
  
There should've been others. There should _be_ others, for he could die in Gondor, and with him, an entire line.   
  
Yet he is ten years a bachelor – unwanted father-likeness! Better be Elendil's son, and satisfy conscience and a wife. Arda wants not for women of will. And he'd resent Arathorn less...    
  
But over Gondor blazes Eärendil's sign, stark reminder: they are all imprudential sons.   
  
Unsettled, Aragorn departs.   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** See "Cirion and Eorl" in _Unfinished Tales_ for the description of Halifirien and the gravestone inscription.   
  
Tolkien says in the Appendix E, "Writing and Spelling" in ROTK that Quenya at least allowed one to drop the "A"s often when spelling. I figure "Ar(a)(n)" being a universal element in the Chieftains' names, the Northern Dúnedain would save a little labor and leave out the initial two vowels when memorializing their departed leaders.


	6. Ere that dark day ended...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title box won't accept the full-length title, which is given below.

_Prompt: Lake Helevorn: Greed is good! Prove or disprove with fic._  
  
I say: [Ew, Ayn Rand.](http://home.sprynet.com/~owl1/rand5.htm)   
  
Now that that's done with, fic! Strict proportionality is the enemy of greed. Whether it measures the good is another question.

_Note: the title box won't accept the full-length title, which is given below._   
  


* * *

**Ere that dark day ended none of the enemy were left**  
  
Some fisherfolk found him: in the reeds, by the dinghies. They dragged him to the town square, where soon all gathered.  
  
For one of _them_ , he wasn't much: half-drowned, his calf sliced open, seeming sicker than the dog old Bereg put down last week.   
  
" _This_ bled Pelargir white?" folk muttered.   
  
The Corsair cowered, uncomprehending, but when men seized him, he babbled pleadingly, even tore the rings from his ears in offering.   
  
But they're not gold-grubbers. They'll take only what's theirs.

~0~

Next morn, Bereg cut him down. "Gold ain't worth a man's life," he tsked. "Should oughter've known!"  
  


* * *

  
**Author's Notes** : _Ere that dark day ended none of the enemy were left_ \- "The Last Debate," RoTK, where it is said that all remaining Haradrim either drowned or fled after the army of the Dead swept through Pelargir's environs.   
  
Although it's not necessary for this story, I'm assuming that the Pelargir the townsfolk are muttering about and to which they have lost men is the Pelargir described in the last drabble of [Pelargir](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=4984).


	7. The Dark Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aravorn is one of the Chieftains of the Northern Dúnedain in Appendix A. That, and the debate over his name's meaning, is all we have about him.

_Prompt: Belegost - overcoming prejudice_   
  


* * *

  
From the first, Anardil had disapproved. Having lost both Chieftain and Heir, they'd no need of trials, he told Malveleg.  
  
Malveleg, who'd been, since his brother's death, a harried man, snapped: "I know!"  
  
"Then stop her!"   
  
"I _am_ stopping her. My niece is yours, Blademaster. Do your duty and save us all!"  
  


~0~

He'd tried – truly. But Arleth hadn't been idle since girlhood lessons. Bow and long dagger she used already. What was swordplay to her?   
  
"More Rangers, hopefully," she answered.   
  
"One, anyway," Anardil sighed. "How shall we call her?"   
  
"'Him.'" She smiled crookedly. "You'll call him 'Aravorn.'"   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** Aravorn is one of the Chieftains of the Northern Dúnedain in Appendix A. That, and the debate over his name's meaning, is all we have about him.   
  
One of the proposed meanings of Aravorn, however, is "Aran + morn"= "Dark King." I've always been partial to the idea that darkness here refers to disguise. So then the question is: What's he hiding?


	8. Roots

_Prompt: Dorthonion: Write a story or poem or create a piece of artwork reflecting identification with or connection to one's land, country or culture._   
  


* * *

The Awakening had come slowly, like sunlight creeping down from top to toe– a deepening, spreading warmth 'til one was suddenly afire and alive to it.   
  
That heat overflowed, became words, and words became songs, and the songs took to the airs that whispered through the forest eaves and shook his hair, 'til they were everywhere, everywhere.   
  
Ages passed: the woody songs grew subtle, but he placed himself to listen. Finglas dug his toes into the earth, joined his hands to the canopy, feeling each shift that spoke of green belonging, and sank into the long rapture of Entish dreams.  
  


* * *

**Author's notes **:**** Finglas is an Ent that Treebeard says is going treeish in TTT.


	9. Preempted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And it happened that when Arathorn and Gilraen had been married only one year, Arador was taken by hill-trolls in the Coldfells north of Rivendell and was slain [....] Arathorn went riding against the Orcs with the sons of Elrond, and he was slain by an orc-arrow [...]. Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond [...] and his true name and lineage were kept secret at the bidding of Elrond; for the Wise then knew that the Enemy was seeking to discover the Heir of Isildur, if any remained upon earth." - Appendix A, RoTK

_Prompt: Nargothrond: "Write a story or poem or create artwork where the characters have to decide between loyalty or betrayal."_   
  


* * *

  
They'd gone north under grim necessity. Trolls were occasional evils, but _so_ many – there had to be a rut. What else explained them, this time of year?  
  
Later, Arador cursed himself for not considering a trap. Their chief captor, a Man, surveyed his battered prizes: "Who commands?"   
  
Immediately up spoke Gilion, thirty years under Star, and bound his Chieftain's tongue: "I do."   
  
"Brave man. Shargûsh!" An orc seized Arador then, to Gilion's evident horror, which became shared, sick irony, as the fellow continued:   
  
"Answer well, then, captain, and spare your men: tell me of Isildur's line..."  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** "And it happened that when Arathorn and Gilraen had been married only one year, Arador was taken by hill-trolls in the Coldfells north of Rivendell and was slain [....] Arathorn went riding against the Orcs with the sons of Elrond, and he was slain by an orc-arrow [...]. Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond [...] and his true name and lineage were kept secret at the bidding of Elrond; for the Wise then knew that the Enemy was seeking to discover the Heir of Isildur, if any remained upon earth." - Appendix A, RoTK


	10. Love lies stately

_Prompt: Himring: Write a story or poem or create artwork where characters make sacrifices in order to achieve their goals._   
  


* * *

  
They'd been children together: even then, he'd been surpassing steady. No boyish tricks, despite Variel's baiting.  
  
He'd revenged himself at twenty-five: taken her hand, and, steady-burning soul, ere nightfall, her pledge and more beside.  
  
They'd married happily, hopeful children would come swiftly.  
  
Fifteen years passed. Variel miscarried thrice, was so ill after the third, she'd to persuade him to another attempt.   
  
Alas, 'twas not to be: Eilariel came too soon.   
  
"We'll manage," he promises. Variel answers him the only wise way...  
  
But next morn, she returns his ring. "For our people," she says, painfully. "Find another, Arathorn!"  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes** : Arathorn married when he was, in his father-in-law's words, "a stern man of full age," by which Dírhael meant to say, he was fifty-seven. That seems a bit long to wait to fulfill those dynastic obligations. And would the Dúnedain really put up with two generations of Heirs who refused to marry for ridiculously long periods of time, especially given that Aragorn inherited after two back-to-back assassinations? Perhaps they would. Or perhaps it's not implausible to impute an earlier marriage to Arathorn...


	11. Blunt Appeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'The Lord's errands are urgent and should not be hindered by me,' said Beregond; 'but tell me quickly, if you may: what goes forward? Whither has my Lord gone? I have just come on duty, but I heard that he passed toward the Closed Door, and men were bearing Faramir before him.'

_Prompt: Balar: Write a story or poem or create artwork featuring unanswered requests, prayers or pleas._   
  


* * *

  
Afterward, Beregond found it too easy to see himself through other eyes. The day had been so dark, and dread-stricken, men saw what they expected.   
  
And they'd all thought that Faramir would die.   
  
Thus Húrin's man wouldn't have challenged the Steward. And who was he to question how his lord disposed of his son's body in such dire times?  
  
Who was the upstart, white-faced guardsman demanding entry to forbidden hallows – who even tried the Steward's Door?  
  
He should've called himself a messenger. He should've feigned some errand. Truth is a subtle weapon, hard to wield.  
  
Far harder than a dagger.   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** "'The Lord's errands are urgent and should not be hindered by me,' said Beregond; 'but tell me quickly, if you may: what goes forward? Whither has my Lord gone? I have just come on duty, but I heard that he passed toward the Closed Door, and men were bearing Faramir before him.'  
  
"'Yes,' said Pippin, 'to the Silent Street.'  
  
"Beregone bowed his head to hide his tears. 'They said he was dying,' he sighed, 'and now he is dead.'" - "The Siege of Gondor," RotK  
  
"At length they came back to the Steward's Door, and Beregond looked with grief at the porter. 'This deed I shall ever rue,' he said; 'but a madness of haste was on me, and he would not listen, but drew sword against me.' - "The Pyre of Denethor," RoTK


	12. False Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'm borrowing Esteven from Isabeau; Esteven is the second ever Southron to win a white belt and serve as a Swan Knight, after her OC Andrahar.

_Prompt: Armenlos: Write a story or create a piece of art centered on freedom of religion (or lack thereof), heresy, and/or religious rites._   
  


* * *

  
Finally, Pelennor was over – the prisoners attended, all else rested with the healers. Men lay like stones that night.   
  
So 'twas morning ere the rumors started: that the Steward had killed himself – that he'd done it by fire. "Like _them_ ," some added, forgetting that "they" wore the Silver Swan, too.   
  
Esteven bit his tongue. Gondorians made Haradrim one mass, and misunderstood even that: _The Khan's Children know fire is **not** for usurping God!_   
  
But for _a-lehani_ , men were too weak to be living flame.   
  
So, faithful _a-lehani_ , he prays: _**A, mhur bhavekahena** , remember his dignity, not his death._  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** 1\. I'm borrowing Esteven from Isabeau; Esteven is the second ever Southron to win a white belt and serve as a Swan Knight, after her OC Andrahar.   
  
2\. Gandalf tells Denethor, in a vain attempt to talk him down from suicide by immolation: "Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death. […] And only the heathen kings, under the dominion of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death." So I thought it would be interesting to have a comment from one of the "heathens" on his own behalf and on behalf of his not-quite-coreligionists. [Love in other languages](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=5228) also looks at this practice by way of giving Esteven's perspective some background.   
  
3\. _A, mhur bhavekahena_ : "O, from god to god", i.e., 'my god, please talk to the gods of Denethor for me, since I can't speak directly to them.' Tolkien didn't leave us any Haradric, so I've been making stuff up ever since I started writing Haradrim.


	13. Beyond the Quays of Umbar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hurrhabi" is the name I've had the Haradrim call that point on the map labeled "City of the Corsairs of Umbar." "A-lehani" - see previous chapter note. "Tarkil" - word for Dúnedain used by orcs and others allied with Mordor.

_Armenelos again! The problem of unintended consequences. Religious prejudice may not *need* an excuse to rear its ugly head, but it will certainly take any one that's handed to it..._   
  


* * *

The shipyard fires had barely cooled when the rumors began: Hurrhabi could not have been breached without help. The look-outs must have been paid off. Someone must have helped the _tarkili_.   
  
Old slanders revived – the _a-lehani_ knew them well, and feared. As ugly rumors spread, and the Khan's Children shunned them in market, muttering darkly against heretics who usurped the khan's place, forsaking their fathers for foreign prophets, many left the city.   
  
"Where will you go?" their neighbors asked.   
  
"North," they answered; "'Tis but justice. If for the _tarkili_ we are hunted, then let them shelter us!"

* * *

**Author's notes:** "Hurrhabi" is the name I've had the Haradrim call that point on the map labeled "City of the Corsairs of Umbar." "A-lehani" - see previous chapter note. "Tarkil" - word for Dúnedain used by orcs and others allied with Mordor.


	14. Daily Bread

_Prompt: The Shire: The cuisine of the Shire is unsurpassed. Write a story or poem, or create a work of art, featuring food._   
  


* * *

  
Their first nights on the road were anxious – fear of pursuit and uneasiness about their guide made for heavy silence.   
  
But as Sam worried over supper their third night, Pippin suddenly perked up. "Beechnuts?" he exclaimed, gazing, puzzled, at Strider. "When did you stop in Chetwood?"  
  
"These I bought in Bree, ere I met you," Strider explained.  
  
"Bitter fare," Frodo remarked.   
  
"Depends," Sam replied. "Need a pan, Mr Strider?"  
  
"I like their bitterness," the Ranger said. "But if you prefer..."  
  
"Bitter, eh?" Sam chuckled. "I'll drink to that! Coffee, anyone?"  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes** : Beeches produce beechnuts, which are [bitter if they are European beechnuts](http://www.ubcbotanicalgarden.org/forums/showthread.php?t=739), and [which are apparently able to be prepared and made into a coffee-like substitute](http://www.paghat.com/beechnuts.html). Hey, it's cheaper than importing from Harad!


	15. A gentle breeze brushed the hilltop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Navies are, as ecrm pointed out to me in a very helpful e-mail while I was drabbling "Pelargir" in December, *expensive*. So much so, you probably wouldn't keep much of one (if any) if you were a somewhat cash-strapped kingdom facing overwhelming hostile power. You'd probably focus on the army.

_Prompt: Arnor: start the drabble with "A gentle breeze brushed the hilltop, combing the ruins..."_  
  
Bonus counterpart drabble: Himring: sacrifice to achieve a goal  
  
Summary: How Aragorn learned to stop worrying and love desertion.

* * *

**Arnor: A gentle breeze brushed the hilltop, combing the ruins...**  
  
...of Osgiliath, where Gondor's army camped.  
  
"Behold our strength," murmured Denethor.

"But not our hope," said his companion.   
  
"We can ill afford to keep our fleet, but I'll not lose it in Umbar!"  
  
"Even should we, thereafter contests shift whither our strength lies – on land."  
  
Denethor snorted, dismissively. "Strategy, Thorongil! Should Gondor raid Umbar, the war begins _tomorrow_ –  our strength shan't suffice."  
  
"Leave Umbar intact, it never shall."   
  
Thus ever they stalled – gallingly – on Gondor's strategy...   
  
_But if it **weren't** Gondor's?_ Insight flashed.  
  
"The fleet's yours," Denethor said, abruptly. "On one condition..."  
  
  
 **Himring: Other matters call me lord...**  
  
The crew were in high spirits – home and victorious. Aragorn however stood aboard the flagship, and stared longingly at Pelargir's harbor.   
  
But he'd no place there now. Perhaps later – perhaps. _If Denethor's not outflanked me with this...!_   
  
"The fleet's yours," Denethor had said; "On one condition. This cannot come from Gondor."  
  
Aragorn had lifted a brow. "Sacrifice?"  
  
"How much," his rival had demanded, "do you love Gondor, Thorongil?"  
  
Not enough to take banishment, nor choose between Gondorian and Haradric ropes. But between those 'choices' he could disappear, and be Denethor's renegade, houseless captain – for Gondor.   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** Navies are, as ecrm pointed out to me in a very helpful e-mail while I was drabbling "Pelargir" in December, *expensive*. So much so, you probably wouldn't keep much of one (if any) if you were a somewhat cash-strapped kingdom facing overwhelming hostile power. You'd probably focus on the army.   
  
"Other tasks now call me, lord..." - This was the message that Aragorn sent to Ecthelion when he abruptly left Gondor after destroying the haven of Umbar. He gets no permission to leave, he simply vanishes from the land, and the best guess among those who saw him last was that he was going toward Mordor and Harad. Since desertion usually isn't taken lightly, it seems to me there must've been *something* going on behind the scenes that wasn't put down in writing.


	16. Love in other languages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   Building off of "[False Fire](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=5219)," fleshing out a little of Esteven's many-times-removed ancestral background.

_Prompt: Bree: Hobbits are well known for their gift-giving traditions. Write a story or poem in which the exchange of gifts is featured, or use "gifting" as a theme for a piece of art._   
  


* * *

  
He'd come to teach, to struggle and to save. Yet giving wasn't straightforward – one had first to be given.   
  
Pallando hadn't expected gifts, but Children were prodigious! He found 'his' people ardent, violent, fractiously pious, wounded, passionate – desperately desirous of courageous, all-giving love.   
  
Unbearable, his fiery brother's vicious perversion of that desire!  
  
Yet even Sauron had had first to be given their language: their yearning for wholeness, for god-like union with God in life's grey years.   
  
As they gave, so gave Pallando, testifying:   
  
_For frail flesh, to be living flame is to_ live _where God dwells: patiently in each other..._  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:**   Building off of "[False Fire](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=5219)," fleshing out a little of Esteven's many-times-removed ancestral background.  
  
Pallando is one of the Blue Wizards sent 'East'. I had him veer south eventually and settle in with the Haradrim. See "The Istari" in _Unfinished Tales_.


	17. Faithful friends

_Prompt: Wilderland: kindness_   
  


* * *

  
Rozuvakol had always called her kings by their names – the Adûnaic ones. She'd never felt at home in Sindarin. Moreover her pottery sold better since they'd closed the ports to Elves.  
  
And she'd liked the new faith – until the Temple rites. No elven lore needed to call them ungodly!  
  
"Mulkhêr"'s appetite daily waxed, though. People – Elendili – disappeared. One day, Rozuvakol found her neighbors gone, and their girls hiding in her yard.  
  
Poor frantic things! Incensed, she took them in, taught them some proper prayers, and to the Templers seeking urns, lied glibly: "My orphaned nieces, Yôzirânil and Anminalphel..."


	18. Heaven in the meantime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Nana!_ – "Mom!"

_Prompt: Rivendell: "Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." --Tyron Edwards._  
  
Summary: Between death and heaven lies Pelennor and its detritus.   
  


* * *

  
Dawn over Erui Crossings saw widowed Morien lonely leaving home. Her sons had answered Minas Tirith's muster-call, and since then, she'd gone ghost-grey.   
  
How hateful, the crows circling her field-corner! She took a shovel, went looking...   
  
… and found two haggard youths asleep there – Southron and Dúnadan.   
  
Deserters!   
  
_Ai, my boys!_ Horror showed them abandoned, dying, and outrage raised the shovel – _Faithless **murderers**...!_   
  
One whimpered, heedless, dreaming: _Nana!_   
  
Her insides cramped. Stricken, she stood, tears streaming forth, and could but think: _Happy women, to whom they'll call_ and _crawl!_   
  
Compassion spasmed – Morien fled without forgiving, but left her daily fare behind.   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** _Nana!_ – "Mom!"  
  
In terms of timing, this episode would occur sometime between Pelennor and the announcement that Barad-dûr had fallen, and of course well before all the names of the dead were known or could have been reported to far-flung families. Although there's no need (I hope) to read back-story for the drabble to make sense, in my mind, it's a sequel to [Beyond the Pale](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=4381).


	19. Wayward

_Prompt: Misty Mountains: Write a story or poem or create an artwork in which a character unaccustomed to acting as a leader must make an important decision._   
  


* * *

  
In Anduin's rushes lay two men, one asleep, the other fretting: river or road?   
  
Anduin's a sure way south, guarantees water. The road...   
  
Ailos longs for its evenness – and its bridges. Could they swim those east-running streams?   
  
He considers his companion. He's no Westron: "Sunny," Ailos calls him, for his praying sunward, dawn and dusk, and daily aches from helping Sunny hobble along.   
  
A lamed Southron, can't walk, can't talk, _likely can't swim..._  
  
Tears threaten. _Why's everything on me?_ He's _so_ tired...   
  
_Too_ tired: 'tis Sunny or Anduin...  
  
"Damn you," Ailos whispers.   
  
Next morn, he leaves Sunny sleeping...  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes** : Sequel to [Beyond the Pale](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=4381)


	20. Passages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timing of the last four drabbles is a little difficult to parse, if the geography isn't clear. Which it probably isn't – the Crossings of Erui are pretty obscure. Castamir died there (sounds like a great postcard line for this year's B2MEM!): [on this map](http://www.glyphweb.com/ARDA/g/gondor.html), you can see the Erui river in Lossarnach – the crossings are where the road intersects the river.

_Prompt: Mirkwood: The words West and East are often used in the works of Tolkien. Write a story or poem or create an artwork that uses these words as the central focus, whether as cardinals, regions, or as metaphors._  
  
Double-drabble response, one for East, one for West.  
  


* * *

  
**West**  
  
Anduin whispers greyly beneath overhanging willows. In half-light, Ailos stumbles over uneven ground, stomach aching.   
  
So he pauses to eat – only a little, wayfare's not plentiful. 'Twill last longer now...   
  
But jerky's _tough_ : his mouthful scrapes down, burning – won't pass!   
  
Anar tops the mountains as Ailos gulps riverwater. He feels sick afterward. _Gluttony's thieving ruins  savor_ – old Lebennin wisdom.   
  
_It's not gluttony, but my life!_ Besides, Sunny might make it...   
  
But the Lebennin shepherd's lad knows better: _Mercy keeps lambs or kills them._  
  
Sunny's no lamb, though: Pelennor looms; Ailos moans. 'Tis gorge finally that wins: cursing, Ailos turns back.   
  
  
**East**  
  
Thankfully, Sunny's sleeping still when he returns. Ailos prods him with a new-cut willow branch, waits through namesake ritual, then turns west.  
  
Green wood helps some, but not enough. During their midday pause, Ailos peels the staff's grip; Sunny wraps his raw-scraped hand in shirt-rags.    
  
Come evening, the road's nigh. They camp hidden under brush.   
  
Dawn brings a shock: "Your hair!"   
  
'Tis but ragged tufts: Sunny fingers shorn-off locks, then, pressing one into Ailos's hand, lays his head tearfully in his lap.  
  
" _Na jhanar soha zenan dhola'osh._ "  
  
Ailos doesn't understand, but Sunny feels heavier, somehow, when they rise.  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** The timing of the last four drabbles is a little difficult to parse, if the geography isn't clear. Which it probably isn't – the Crossings of Erui are pretty obscure. Castamir died there (sounds like a great postcard line for this year's B2MEM!): [on this map](http://www.glyphweb.com/ARDA/g/gondor.html), you can see the Erui river in Lossarnach – the crossings are where the road intersects the river.   
  
So to get to the location of "Heaven in the meantime," Ailos and Sunny would already have had to leave Anduin. The "Mirkwood" and "Misty Mountains" drabbles are actually back-fillers to get them moving toward the crossings.   
  
I'll confess, I was kind of hoping readers wouldn't notice, so they'd get to have that moment of suspense as to whether or not Ailos actually abandons Sunny somewhere along the river or not. I know it's a cheap trick, but never let it be said I'm above them! ;-D


	21. Gainesville Town

_Prompt: Erebor: Refugee issues are our issues; their plight is our plight. Write a story or poem or create artwork that illustrates the situation of some displaced group in Middle-earth._   
  


* * *

  
After Umbar, Belfalas's and Dol Amroth's lords debate: to Haradrim seeking shelter – as ever happens after war on Harad's soil – will they say yea or nay?   
  
Then some say yea, for honor; others nay, we've no stake. Yea, for pity; nay, for peace at home. Yea – they're useful. Nay – they're poor.   
  
Yea – 'tis justice. Nay – they're untrustworthy. Yea – they suffer. Nay – their suffering breeds strife among our enemies! Yea – remember Amroth!  
  
Finally, the Prince rules: yea – when War outbreaks, these will flock to our banner.  
  
"'Yea, for fodder'?" his son demands later. The Prince sighs.   
  
"Valar forgive me!"  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes** : Builds off of [Beyond the Quays of Umbar](http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Chapter.php?CHid=5229).   
  
_Gainesville Town_ – lifted from the Indigo Girls song, [Shame on you](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKqUglOC3_8).  
  
 _Remember Amroth!_ : Dol Amroth used to be Elven territory, so really, the entire principality of Men is an immigrant empire.


	22. Where sea meets shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calmindon is the lighthouse set on Tol Uinen, and which guided the mariners of the Venturer's Guild home to Númenor.

_Prompt: Dol Guldur: Start a story with the phrase: _Everyone avoided the tower. It was believed to have__   
  


* * *

  
Everyone avoided the tower. It was believed to have saved more sailors than swimming. Calmindon welcomed them home: radiant, but forbidden – home to its keepers, who mustn't be troubled.   
  
Uruzir had joined the Guild, world-restless, but seeing Azruphel, the keeper's daughter, he was scuttled.  
  
"Will you wait for me?" he asked.  
  
"As every other," she answered, placidly. But she looked him closely. Then: "Tell me a story – one to keep me through your ventures, for sailors never stay."  
  
So he did – two years and ten stories later, she gave him one word worth all of his: _yes._  
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** Calmindon is the lighthouse set on Tol Uinen, and which guided the mariners of the Venturer's Guild home to Númenor.


	23. The road through Lossarnach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ailos and "Sunny" have caught up with "Heaven in the meantime," though I didn't have the word-count to squeeze in anything more explicit than unexpected free food upon waking.

_Prompt: Rhosgobel: Write a story or poem or create artwork using one or more animals as symbols, omens, or metaphors. Use associations and meanings from any culture or source you wish (e.g., Celtic, Native American, Biblical)._   
  


* * *

  
For days, they encounter none but March hares boxing – Lossarnach's scattered farmland. And the clever hares stay beyond stone's throw.   
  
Meanwhile, Sunny's dragging, pained step and his own stomach's growls fill Ailos's ears 'til all his thought is hunger: though hare-hearted they've neither swiftness nor cunning! Nor food – after three days scarcely eating, Ailos remembers the generous hare of legend, who fed guests himself, and wants to cry or hit someone – mostly Sunny.  
  
He nearly does when Sunny wakes him two days later: " _Na ahn zekhatisetokh!_ "   
  
"What?" Sunny points. At their feet lies salvation in a kerchief: lunch!   
  


* * *

  
**Author's notes:** Ailos and "Sunny" have caught up with "Heaven in the meantime," though I didn't have the word-count to squeeze in anything more explicit than unexpected free food upon waking.  
  
To fill the prompt, I was looking for more timid, quick-in-flight type animals, and came up with "bunny." But bunny-gods aren't very interesting or frequent; much more interesting is the hare, who is said to be cunning, fierce, brave, and ever-resourceful, and because of that nearly scuttled the  "timid and quick" symbolism. Finally, though, the Internet came through for me: the story that Ailos thinks of was borrowed from a story of one of the Buddha's incarnations, found [here.](http://www.sacred-texts.com/bud/bits/bits056.htm)


	24. The Dunsinane Waltz

_Prompt: Rohan: Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art where your character rises above themselves to follow their dreams._   
  


* * *

  
Beneath the bending bower eaves  
Walks Lúthien among the trees –  
Beech and ash, willow, yew   
Hollyhock and rowan, too –   
  
A year beneath her shoeless feet  
A year her soles have felt the beat  
of treely measures slow and solemn –   
joyful life a throbbing drum,  
  
To which she turns and stately dances  
Weaving like the windy branches –   
Lifts her voice in song so deep  
it touches roots and sappy seeps.  
  
Leaves shake, wood cracks,  
branches sway – the trees sing back!  
Silent stiffness falls to earth,  
Oboed throats gives voice to mirth,  
Knotted eyes then truly see:   
Woody life goes dancing free.  
  



	25. The Summons

_Prompt: Gondor: _There was no avoiding it; the letter had to be composed...__  
  
Who will receive this letter? An uncle? A lover? The High-King? Why is there "no avoiding it"? Circumstances? Or is Mother watching with arms crossed? Will the letter be written in haste? Or will each phrase be meticulously crafted?   
  
Write a story or poem inspired by this line (you do not need to use the exact quote), or create a piece of art that reflects this situation.  
  


* * *

  
The sun was setting. Below, Pelennor lay deep in shade that stretched ever eastward...  
  
Denethor sat in his wife's dayroom, transfixed, but not by beauty. The light was going out, the world with it. Beneath his hand lay paper and pen, insubstantial as he felt.  
  
A knock startled him. "My lord?" the servant girl said. "My lady asks for you."  
  
 _Finduilas!_ "A moment!" Suddenly impatient, fearful of relentless-flowing time, he snatched the pen. Words fell from it like nightfall:  
  
 _Amroth Father – So I call you in urgent appeal: come swiftly! Come today, for your daughter is dying..._


	26. Man's Measure

<i>Prompt: Isengard: <i>"Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel."</i>  
\--Alexander Pope   
  
How would a character not allowed to express his or her thoughts, creativity, or opinion act out? Capture this in a story, poem or piece of art.  
  
"Sunny" finally gets a fic in his perspective: language and responsibility are the house of our being; "Sunny" is feeling his homelessness.</i>  
  
<hr>  
  
The world is silent. Not for want of sound, but sense. He has no words. Not in this land.   
  
His companion in shame tries to give him some, but he cannot understand, cannot make himself understood. Pain speaks, and hunger, exhaustion – animal-talk only.   
  
It's another way of dying. They're animals today, but creeping numbness encroaches – who abases himself, betraying all human bonds, God makes stone in time.   
  
He can't say this, but he feels it, fears, tries, by earnest evening efforts to serve, to forestall it. But he hurts so, is so weary, he <i>can't</i>, and so daily prays: <i>Mercy!</i>


	27. Havenless

_Prompt: Grey Havens: _"You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right."__  
\--Maya Angelou   
  
Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art on the theme of leaving or returning home.  
  
Ailos turns his back on Lebennin, only for "Sunny" to have home come brutally and unexpectedly home to him in Gondor.   
  


* * *

  
The city looms. They've come to shelter, to go unremarked – to Pelargir, scarred city, home perhaps.  
  
They pass its broken walls, find the burned-out Haradric quarter. Folk stare – 'til someone rips Sunny's hood off, starts yelling.  
  
Death is a mob: Ailos, terrified, wails as Sunny's torn away...  
  
Suddenly, a woman's voice, speaking Westron, pierces the commotion: "You've his hair?"   
  
Shaking, Ailos fumbles his scrip, produces that lock. Uproar: " _He's his!_ "  
  
Folk disperse, muttering; Ailos scrambles up. "Mine?"   
  
"Your servant, Jhanar," she names dazed, bleeding Sunny. "A coward-vowed traitor's saved, but unwelcome." A pause. "Come. Now!"


	28. Life from stone

_Prompt: Mordor: _"Darkness is only driven out with light, not more darkness."__  
\--Martin Luther King, Jr.   
  
Write a story or poem or create artwork where your character battles and overcomes their darkest hour.  
  


* * *

  
_Traitor! Cradle-killer!_ Words, inseparable from fists and feet, bruise; his name – _Out-caste!_ – is spittle.   
  
Even among traitor-exiles, he's unfit for human bonds!   
  
Whether fit or not, he spills his slave's claim to live, desperate.  
  
Unexpectedly, he's spared.   
  
Yet why? Afterward, hiding beyond the walls, his master thrusts the braid-bond at him, and Jhanar wants to weep – or die.   
  
What's left, if deserters refuse him? Only insensibility...   
  
Their savior comes, bearing needfuls, sees the braid-lock. Bird-like words erupt! Eventually: "I've explained: Ailos understands now." Then, unbearably frank:  
  
"We must sometimes be Men. Pray your bonds and ours, brother! Farewell."


End file.
